Driven
by spiky the blowfish
Summary: What could happen after X2. The X-Men have to fight Registration and a new enemy. Focuses mainly on Logan, but everyone feature strongly.


A/N: Another attempt at an X-fic. This time I'm gonna try and get further than chapter 2.  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own, never have, never will. Damn.  
  
Rating: PG-13? - cursing, a bit of violence.  
  
Summary: Just when they thought it was safe - the nightmare is far from over. My continuation of the X-men saga.  
  
Feedback: The little mini-wolvie in my head needs food, so please review.  
  
"Mr. President? Would you like some water, Sir?" The President turned to find his head of security standing in front of him, holding a glass.  
  
"Thanks Jim", he said, taking the drink and sitting down with a sigh. Nobody knew about his surprise visit from the X-Men. They wouldn't believe him anyway. It was hard enough convincing himself that the whole thing ever happened. But he still had that file.  
  
Having read and re-read it, the President still couldn't see an easy way out of his predicament. Although the files given to him by Professor Xavier proved Stryker was guilty, he couldn't reveal them to the public without risking a massive scandal. And how else could he justify repealing Mutant Registration, especially now, when most of the population of the world - well the human population anyway - had nearly died at the hands of what must have been a mutant attack.  
  
No - he would have to continue the Registration campaign. Either that or be voted out of office, and no way did he want that. Decided, the President left his suite, and went to arrange a press conference. He was going to sort this mutant problem out once and for all.  
  
Logan turned off the highway into the bar's car park. Parking his bike - well, Scooter's bike, but it wasn't like he'd know he'd taken it - next to a grey SUV, he made his way across the dark parking lot to the warm glow of the bar.  
  
The TV in the corner was babbling on about some conference in Washington, so he tuned it out, and sat down at the bar instead, ordering a beer. Jeez, he thought. Things were turnin' bad back at the school. One-eye had become even more of a tight-arse, if that was even possible, and now showed no emotion at all. Christ, an action figure probably showed more feelings than him. Except the time he'd dropped that weight on his foot. Heh, he'd definitely showed emotion then.  
  
But he couldn't really blame him - Jean's dying had left a hole the size of a killer whale in the mansion, and while he felt like smashing something every time he got a whiff of her scent in the corridors, he knew Scott had a hell of a lot more right to grieve. After all - she'd chosen him.  
  
Logan sighed and went back to nursing his beer. Nothing would put the mansion right. Nothing made sense anymore. Hell, he should just get back on the road again. It wasn't like the school was going to be attacked again. And they sure freaked out the President. Heh, that was one trip worth the plane flight.  
  
"...mutants considered dangerous".  
  
Logan looked up from his meditation at the bar, intrigued, and turned his attention to the dusty television screen at the end of the bar. A newsreader was reading some report about the 'mutant problem'. Something about a press conference.  
  
"President White gave a public speech earlier today in regards to the suspected mutant attack on the human race two days ago. Despite a similar attack on mutant members of the population, the President and most of his cabinet think that widespread mutant registration is necessary to prevent incidents like this from recurring."  
  
The newsreader was replaced with footage of the press conference. Logan noticed that Senator Kelly aka Mystique was present, and there was another familiar face too. Oh yeah, the President, he thought, laughing to himself. That lyin' rat bastard still wants us all locked up. Ha, let 'em try.  
  
"..Senator Kelly, who was stoically defending the registration Act just weeks ago, is now arguing fiercely against the idea. However, he is definitely outnumbered, by about 10 million to one, as most of the human population of the USA are clamouring for registration. After all, after the horrific attacks on Monday, which left billions lying in agony, mutant supporters are few and far between."  
  
Logan could understand that. After all, it had felt like an ice pick to the head to him, and he had a healing factor. But still, it was a shame Chuck's plan had failed. He just relied too much on people being honest.  
  
He was just deliberating whether it was more important to tell the others about the news report, or to have another beer when he heard something that made his blood run cold.  
  
His own voice was coming out of the TV. He turned so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, and was met by an image of himself, in the spillway of Stryker's base.  
  
"STRYKER!" the mini-him shouted, "OPEN UP"  
  
He couldn't remember saying that. But he hadn't had he? It had been Mystique, when she disguised herself as him to break into the base. But how could there be footage of that. Even if there were cameras in the tunnel, they would have been turned into fish food when the dam collapsed. In any case, there he was, clear for anyone to see. Anyone in the nation in fact, he realised.  
  
"This footage was sent to us by anonymous donators from Canada. The location has been traced back to the recently destroyed Alkali Base, a government communications base. Early reports from the base show that the body of General William Stryker, a well-regarded veteran, was found buried in a snow drift, but not much else has been discovered yet.  
  
The man shown in the clip remains un-named." Logan let out a breath of relief, and nearly toasted the newsreader. "But these shots, taken from security cameras in the Statue of Liberty, on the night of the World Summit, prove he was involved in the unexplained events which took place there." And there was footage - footage of Scott, and Storm, and, he noted, Jean, looking as great as ever. And then him. He was even treated to a play- by-play of his destruction of the security gate. Oh dear.  
  
"A member of this mysterious band of troublemaking mutants, the man in these shots is a dangerous criminal. Although we don't yet have details of his mutation, we do know that he is armed with metal 'claws' which come out of his hands." Could a really bad attitude count as a mutation, Logan mused, as close-up shots of him, and the other X-men filled the screen.  
  
"If you have any information regarding the mutant's whereabouts, or have seen anything which could relate to this case, please call in as soon as you can. Lives may rest in your hands."  
  
Logan snorted into his drink. Sure would surprise 'em if he rang up. He'd tell 'em where they could shove their information. It looked like the second round was off, then. Turning away from the screen, Logan came face to face with the barrel of quite a large and threatening shotgun. Deja vous, he thought, remembering Laughlin City. It seemed the resident drunks of this shit-hole weren't so drunk after all. About eight people were staring at him, and another four were making for the door already. Sensible guys. The pub was completely silent, but for the newsreader who continued behind him.  
  
"Vicious and aggressive mutants like this one remind us all why Mutant Registration may be the only solution to the ever spreading mutant problem." Aw shit. Way to go, lady, he thought, the shit's really gonna hit the fan now.  
  
Keeping a wary eye on the balding barman, and his shotgun, Logan turned slowly. The entire content of the pub was glaring at him, if you discounted the one passed out on a bench at the back. He was tempted to glare back, but got the feeling it wouldn't do him much good. As much as he was itching for a fight, he didn't fancy another bullet in the head. The last one had hurt like hell, and put him down for a good five minutes. No, his best chance was to get out and haul ass back to the safety of the mansion.  
  
Still moving slowly, he raised his hands in what he thought was a surrendering gesture, and stood up slowly. "Look, bub. I don't want any trouble."  
  
He was cut off abruptly by the bar guy, who jabbed the shotgun at his chest. "Well you got trouble, you freakin' mutie." How original. But it had stirred the blood of the crowd. "Yeah". "Kill 'im" "I bet he wants to gut us all"  
  
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was turning out to be an eventful evening. It looked like he wasn't going to get out of there without a fight, which was fine by him, but he doubted Scott would think much of it. Oh well. The wolverine inside him pushed to the forefront, bringing with it a deep, resounding growl.  
  
"I don't wanna hurt you people. You let me leave, and I leave your guts intact." Somehow he got the feeling the crowd wasn't impressed, perhaps by the way they started looking round for weapons, and shouting curses at him. This was one hell of a blood-thirsty crowd. Oh well, couldn't say he didn't warn 'em.  
  
*SNIKT*  
  
And hell descended. He had received a beer bottle to the head, which had bothered him for all of two seconds, but had also let the bastards know he healed fast, and had taken down three of the rapidly diminishing mob. He didn't remember the guy with the shotgun until he felt a bullet embed itself in the back of his head. 


End file.
